Throne of the Dead by Jacob Holo

Author:Jacob Holo
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781515243083
Publisher: Baen Books
Published: 2023-07-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14: Throne of the Twelfth

Quennin held onto the gravity platform railing with a white-knuckled grip. For a former (and soon to be again) pilot, she really hated heights. The drop was over ten stories and rising. Veketon didn’t seem to notice, currently absorbed with the adjustments being made to his throne.

Quennin recalled her fight with Jack in this very bay. It had been so different with chaos energy surging through her body. All the particulars of geometry and force were comprehended with a moment’s thought. She looked down at the gravity cranes stored below. Had she really jumped down to one of those?

It had been like piloting again. In her seraph, she could have done anything. Power washed her fears away.

Quennin wore the black slipsuit again. She turned to the throne and watched four robotic arms unfold from another crane hovering above the throne’s head.

The throne’s face was smoothed over, giving only a general impression of a male human face, but still one of strength and confidence. It conveyed Veketon’s personality well.

The white mask covered the head’s internal mechanisms. Arms from the gravity crane latched onto key points along the perimeter and decoupled the mask from the throne.

“I thought you should know what it is you are being asked to pilot,” Veketon said.

The crane lifted the mask off.

Quennin gasped. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Yes, that’s the typical reaction,” Veketon said blandly. “But they really aren’t that far removed from the seraphs. Seraphs are, after all, biomechanical entities. They use artificial neural tissue for their influx amplifiers. Conductor fluid may be manufactured, but it holds many similarities to human blood. The seraphs are more machine than alive, whereas the thrones are more alive than machine. These weapons are merely the logical progression of what you have already piloted.”

Quennin looked at the exposed skinless face.

Two giant gray eyes stared back at her, lidless and vacant. Exposed muscles flexed and contracted across the horrible flayed visage. Great rows of human teeth in a lipless mouth parted slightly, then shut again.

“Is it …” The question stuck in Quennin’s throat.

“A living creature? Oh, yes. The thrones are not machines controlling organic parts, but rather organisms guided and aided by machines. They are based on human genetic and chaotic templates.”

“Is it conscious?”

“Not like you or I, but to an extent. That is why we freeze them and keep them sedated between uses.” Veketon linked with the gravity crane and brought the mask back into place. “Is it conscious when I pilot it? No. My mind supplants that of the throne’s. I become the throne temporarily in the same way a seraph pilot becomes the seraph.”

Their gravity platform moved to the right, descending slowly.

“Why did you show me that?” Quennin asked.

“Because I wish to hide nothing from you.”

“You could have warned me.”

“Do you still wish to pilot your throne?” Veketon asked.

My throne, she thought. As if it belongs to me.

“You don’t need to ask,” she said. “I think you know me well enough by now.

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